


And A Happy New Year

by RageSeptember



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John is in love, M/M, Or is he really?, Sherlock is clueless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RageSeptember/pseuds/RageSeptember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a universe where Irene Adler does not exist, or has yet to make her presence known, the Christmas party at Baker Street 221B ends a little differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And A Happy New Year

**Author's Note:**

> This was my gift for allyallover338 over at tumblr as part of the Sherlock Secret Santa exchange. I'm not a Johnlock shipper myself, so it was a very interesting challenge to write this. :D I hope I didn't do too badly.

It is well past midnight when Mrs. Hudson returns to her own flat and the guests finally leave, Greg leaning heavily on Molly as they make their way down the stairs to wait for the cab John has ordered. The inspector is trying to tell the morgue attendant something, something about Sherlock and a misunderstanding regarding the word meretricious that is somehow relevant to the holiday, but he’s had four eggnogs in the last hour and, well. John hears the door close on his somewhat incoherent rambling, and then it is quiet.

Sherlock has retreated to his room – no doubt worn out from all the socializing, the doctor thinks with a wry smile – and John starts to clean away the glasses and plates. He’s not very tired, just pleasantly drowsy and warm from the drinks and the company, and it’ll be nice not to wake up to the dishes tomorrow. A good party, this. Nice way to spend Christmas; better than most others he has tried. (So, yes, there was that uncomfortable moment between Jeanette and Sherlock, and she left early, but he’ll call her tomorrow from Harry’s, and it’ll all be fine.)

Sherlock’s door is slightly ajar when he walks past it, so he pauses, giving it a soft knock. Sherlock replies with a small grunt, and that is the detective’s equivalent of a red carpet rolled out, so John enters. His tall, dark and snarky flat mate is standing by the window, looking down at the street below, seemingly lost in thought.

“They’ve all left now,” John says.

Another grunt; whether of satisfaction, simple acknowledgment or something else, John cannot say. “That was very nice, I think,” he continues when it becomes apparent that Sherlock has nothing more verbal to offer. “Having them over.” He pauses, cocking his head slightly to the side. “Was a bit awkward there for a moment, with Molly, but I think it was good, you know, what you did.”

Sherlock has turned from the window and is regarding him with steady eyes, unreadable. “Was it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was good.” John has long since made his – albeit reluctant – peace with the fact that Sherlock just doesn’t _do_ sorry. He doesn’t admit fault, he doesn’t apologize. Annoying as hell, sure, but, well, that’s Sherlock for you. So that he should take note of Molly’s pain and care enough about it to ask for her forgiveness is nothing short of… amazing. Now, with his back against the window and face in shadow, there’s nothing left of that fleeting, unexpected tenderness. He seems cold, detached. His usual aloof self.

For whatever reason, it pisses John off, so when he next speaks, there’s a hint of something hard in his voice: “Though, really, Sherlock, maybe you could try and be a little more tactful in the future, hm? Just a little. I know feelings aren’t exactly your area of interest or expertise, but the rest of us, we just have them, you know? Can’t really help it, so maybe, just maybe, you could try to… show a little respect and not humiliate people who – quite against their own inclinations, I’m sure – has been unfortunate enough to fall in love with you.”

Sherlock is not moved. “She never mentioned it. How was I supposed to _know_?”

“How were you - ? Sherlock! You notice _everything_. You can tell me what I had for breakfast four days ago by looking at my sodding pinkie!”

“No, I really can’t. Though - ”

“Oh, _shut up._ You should have known, okay? You just _should have_.” He realizes that he’s almost shouting, and that somewhere, somehow this has stopped being about Molly… _Goddamn it!_

The doctor doesn’t look at Sherlock, doesn’t want to see that smug expression on his face that says that the detective _knows_ , he’s _got it_. (Or, worse still, that bemused, slightly annoyed expression that says that he _doesn’t_ know, _doesn’t_ get it, never will, stupid sodding git of a genius.)

Clearing his throat, John shifts uncomfortably. “Right. I had better get to bed. Leaving early for Harry’s tomorrow. Uh… merry Christmas.”

He’s halfway out the door when Sherlock says: “Wait.” It’s one small word, uttered in a soft voice and almost too quiet to be heard, but it is enough to stop John in his tracks. Slowly, he turns around, facing Sherlock who is advancing on him with an expression on his face that is neither smug nor bemused. It is… calculating, but not cold; not cold at all.

“I am… not very well-versed in the language of feelings,” Sherlock says as he stops just in front of John. “Never had much use for them. But, perhaps, I am learning to see the value of sentiment.” The detective pauses, pursing his lips. “In some certain cases, at least. And I am sorry if my… cluelessness has caused you undue distress. Forgive me.”

John doesn’t know how to respond, and before he has time to figure it out, Sherlock puts a hand on his shoulder, leans in and then there is Sherlock’s lips pressed against his, the kiss soft but not hesitant or unsure, and it is nothing like John thought it would be, but it is good, it is better, it’s perfect.

Sherlock steps back, a small (and, yes, pretty damned smug) smile playing on his lips. “Merry Christmas, John Watson.”

 _Oh_. Well, of course he can’t be sure, but John suddenly has a feeling that the new year will prove very happy indeed.


End file.
